


Don't Get Too Close (It's Where My Demons Hide)

by Cara_2886, FirstOrderGeneral14 (Cara_2886)



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Awesome James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Bruce Banner Is a Good Bro, Bullying, Gen, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Howard Stark's Bad Parenting, Hurt Tony Stark, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, James "Rhodey" Rhodes is a Good Bro, Justin Hammer is an idiot, M/M, Minor Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Misunderstandings, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Social Anxiety, Stephen Strange is a Good Bro, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Thor is a Good Bro (Marvel), Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Daddy Issues, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Has Nightmares, Tony Stark Has Self-Esteem Issues, Tony Stark Has Trust Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark-centric, eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:40:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29069694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cara_2886/pseuds/Cara_2886, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cara_2886/pseuds/FirstOrderGeneral14
Summary: Contrary to the belief of everyone, Tony Stark wasn't doing too good.Turns out, not having any friends can be kind of lonely.Who would've thought.ORTony is really good at pushing people away. In fact, he'd say it's his best skill.Unfortunately, the Avengers agree. At first, that is.Until they finally pull back the many layers that are Tony Stark. Then things change.
Relationships: Bruce Banner & Clint Barton & Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark & Thor, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Tony Stark & Avengers Team
Comments: 19
Kudos: 89





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an Avengers high school au.
> 
> Liberties are being taken.
> 
> Trigger Warning: I know it says Implied/Referenced Child Abuse in the tags, but that is only there because I haven't decided how shitty of a father I want Howard to be in this fic. I will change the tags as the story progresses, if necessary.

Tony glared at himself in the mirror. For once, even he had to admit that he looked like a mess. The dark circles under his eyes were more prevalent than ever, and he was struggling to keep his eyelids from closing. His skin was also looking rather sallow, which he knew was his own fault. After locking himself down in his lab for two days straight, and after a grueling week nonetheless, what else could he expect?

But it made no difference. He still had school. Him not looking his best wasn’t going to change that. Although if Howard saw him before he left today, he might give Tony a few nasty remarks about it. But no matter. Tony had multiple tests today, and he couldn’t afford to miss them (not that he ever could. It wasn’t like he was behind in any of his classes, but he needed all his free time spent on either homework or his… side project.)

So, he grabbed his backpack, avoided Howard, and said goodbye to his mother, and got in the car as Jarvis drove him to school. 

When he got out, Tony waved his butler goodbye, and turned around, facing the school, quickly putting on his standard ‘Stark persona’. Everyone expected him to be arrogant, snarky, and extremely intelligent. And once the public had that idea of him, Tony knew he couldn’t change it, so he’d play along. Besides, what would his father say if the media knew that Tony Stark actually hated crowds and parties? He’d tell me that Stark men are made of iron, and that the only way to be strong and please the press was to put on an act. Easy for him to say. He has to play the role of ‘loving husband and father’, while I’m stuck with being a ‘cocky, ungrateful smartass’.

Unfortunately for Tony, acting like a cocky, ungrateful smartass, meant he was treated as such.

Everyone assumed that because he was Tony Stark, he always had a group of disciples trailing after him, ready to obey his every word. 

This, of course, could not be further from the truth.

Tony walked down the halls of Shield Academy with his head low, and notebook out, sketching new designs for various Stark Industries products. It was the only way for him to remain relatively unnoticed, but still maintain his act. If he didn’t look busy, then people would begin to notice that he was alone, not by choice, but because nobody could stand him.

Tony didn’t blame them.

People tended to dislike those who were smarter than them, regardless of age. But when they saw a fourteen-year-old getting 100s in the most challenging AP courses? Well, needless to say, Tony didn’t exactly have any ‘friends’. Instead, he had… well, he didn’t like the word ‘bullies’. That was too cliché for his taste. No, Tony had tormentors.

Speaking of, one was coming his way right now.

“So, Stark,” called Justin Hammer, future CEO of Hammer Industries, SI’s rival (not that it was a serious rivalry, SI was an infinitely better company). “Pretending to make designs for daddy? Again? Come on, we all know this isn’t you,” the older boy said, taking Tony’s notebook.

Tony paled. He couldn’t lose that notebook, it had numerous designs that were essential to SI’s future. “Hammer give that to me. Now. Or I swear to god, I will kick your ass.”

The threat couldn’t have been less effective.

Justin burst out laughing, along with the rest of his gang. Tony fought hard to keep the red flush in his face under control, but he could feel his face heating up. He knew he was already at a disadvantage, physically, considering he was only fourteen. But that, combined with the fact that even for his age, Tony was small, made it seem like a threat from a puppy. It certainly was just as affective.

Luckily, Tony didn’t need to be as big as Hammer to get the notebook back. As Hammer was laughing, Tony lunged forward, taking advantage of his distraction, and ran off. He could hear Justin’s shouts of anger, and footsteps gaining on him, which encouraged him to sprint even faster to his homeroom. He just managed to throw himself into the classroom before Hammer could reach him, quickly sitting down in a desk.

Tony breathed out a sigh of relief, knowing that as long as there was a teacher present, Hammer couldn’t touch him. He noticed a few strange looks from other students but ignored them. Was it something he should probably take care of? Yes. It was incredible, the rumors people would create just to make sense of incredibly mundane things. But was he going to? Hell no. That was something his father could deal with, if people started speculating that he was doing something stupid.

Soon enough, Dr. Singh walked in and began his lecture. Tony sighed. This was one of his most boring classes on the best of days. But, today was not Tony’s lucky day, as the class seemed to drag on for hours, when in reality, it was only 45 minutes.

The rest of his classes went on in a similar fashion, until AP Chemistry, that was. 

It was his seventh period, which meant that it was his last class. This also meant that he was pretty much done, as he hadn’t slept much (read: at all) last night, and he was exhausted. Tony hadn’t slept during lunch, not today. He had too many things to do for SI, and his father was getting more demanding than ever about it. 

So, his body made the executive decision to pass out in the middle of the lecture.

Tony, of course, only realized this when he felt someone shaking him awake. 

“Glad you could grace us with your attention, Mr. Stark. I know you probably think this is all beneath you, but this is an AP class, which means you need to start paying attention if you want to succeed without the help of your father. So,” Mrs. Hill turned to the board. “If you were to try and recreate a basic strength-enhancing serum, how would you do it? Come on up, I want you to write it on the board.”

Tony groaned internally. Recently, SI had taken up the project of the Super Soldier Serum, something that had first been created by Dr. Erskine back in World War II. Tony had decided to take a look at it himself and had finished an exact replica six months ago. Not that anyone besides his father knew that; he didn’t want the world to know just how smart he was quite yet.

Well, he thought to himself. Now might be a good time to show them. Because while most of his Stark persona was an act, Tony was very much a prideful person. He took slights such as this very seriously. He knew Mrs. Hill thought that this was an impossible question to answer. And it was, for everyone else, including her. But he wasn’t like everyone else.

Tony picked up a marker and began his sketch.

“Well, the serum itself is, in reality, quite simple. The only reason it’s been so hard to recreate is because everyone assumed something high tech was needed, but this isn’t true. A German scientist was able to do this in the forties. It’s impossible for him to have used the tech we have today to make his version of the serum. It’s funny, all anyone had to do was think like a scientist during that time, and the answer would practically be staring them in the face.”

By now, the chemical formula for the serum was complete. He had always been a fast writer. Tony began working on the second thing needed to actually make it work.

“Of course, there’s also the fact that people keep forgetting about the delivery system itself. It wasn’t a shot, not in the traditional sense, nor was it something you had to replenish. No, you would need a very specific type of chamber to administer it, which is shown here.” Tony drew a large circle around the design, finishing it off.

“Mrs. Hill, you can check the formula with SI. Tell them it’s from me. The machine, however, isn’t exactly something a chemist would understand, no offense. So, I’ll just erase that, and email you a copy of the formula. Sound good? Great.”

With that, Tony quickly erased everything he’d just written. He couldn’t have anyone else attempting to recreate it. Not that anyone else would understand a word of what he’d just written. 

Seeing as everyone was still slack jawed in awe, Tony went back to his seat, a self-satisfied smirk gracing his lips.

He put his head down, and continued napping.

…

When the school day finally ended, Tony bolted for the school’s old chemistry lab that nobody used. Well, nobody except for him and Shield’s other resident genius, Bruce Banner. Bruce was one of the few people that Tony was actually mildly friendly with, which was saying something. They had probably spent hours in the lab together, working on their individual projects in silence. 

They never actually talked, though. It was an unspoken, respected thing. They would work in the lab, neither ever making any comments on ‘hey, wait a minute, that just blew up, why did it blow up?? What are you doing that makes stuff blow up?!?’ or ‘did you just drink that? Isn’t that stuff poisonous?!?’. It wasn’t an awkward silence, but rather an acknowledgement that they were there to work, and that’s exactly what they were going to do.

After all, nobody else was even allowed in the school labs without an adult. Except for them. Which meant that, while most students would’ve used it as a hangout space, they were allowed to do whatever kind of science crap they wanted.

For Tony, it was a dream come true.

Because while yes, his lab at home had far more advanced tools, it also had his father’s supervision, which meant that any work done in there had to be strictly for SI. And while Tony did do a lot for SI, there were other things he wanted to do. Currently, he was working on building a robot that could learn, which would be a monumental breakthrough.

He had already talked to his father about this, but Howard had made it very clear that a robot was not to be where Tony focused his attention (“You foolish child! We have engineers and coding specialists with twice your training who can’t do it, so don’t waste your time!”).

But Tony was close. He just needed a few more months, and then his bot would be done.

He couldn’t wait.

But, unfortunately, he wouldn’t be able to work on DUM-E today (as he had already named his creation). He knew that he had an essay for Language Arts due tomorrow, and he hadn’t even started. He also had a fair amount of chemistry homework thanks to Mrs. Hill, who still seemed mad about his little performance earlier. So, instead of doing what he loved, Tony got started on his homework.

Bruce came in some time later, sending Tony a nod in greeting, before getting started on his own project.

About an hour or so after Bruce came in, Tony felt his eyes start to droop. Normally, when he reached this point, he would leave the lab and head over to his favorite place to do homework, the coffee shop a few blocks away. That way, he could be energized and warmed up when he had to work on his SI projects.

Speaking of, Tony was a solid 97% sure the deadline for one of those projects was tomorrow. And had he finished it yet? No, no he had not.

Tony groaned. Guess I won’t be getting any caffeine today, he thought grumpily. 

He started to stand up, feeling extremely lightheaded. Black spots danced across his vision, and he could feel his headache getting worse. He tried to take a step, but found that his legs had decided that no, they were not going to work today. 

Tony felt himself pitch forward, closing his eyes, bracing for impact. If he came home with another bruise, Howard would assume he’d gotten beat up. Again. In all honesty, it was a fair assumption, but, for once, it wasn’t true. Not that Howard would care. If anything, it would make his father’s reaction worse, knowing that his son wasn’t strong enough. That he was weak.

Not weak, Tony thought. Just tired.

Stop lying to yourself.

Tony’s head hit the floor, and he let out a groan. Yeah, there was no way he’d even be able to walk after this. Especially not without his coffee. Tony opened his eyes, and blinked, trying to clear his overly blurred eyesight. He held his hands out against the light, trying to block it from his eyes, but the whole room was still far too bright.

He just needed a break.

And the world seemed set on not giving him one, as the figure of Bruce Banner appeared above him. Tony was aware that he was talking, but it sounded muffled, like he was hearing it underwater.

“-ony? Tony? Hey, dude, can you hear me?”

Tony grimaced. Since when was Bruce so loud? He had always seemed the quiet type to Tony, but it was like the guy was screaming.

At least, Tony was pretty sure he was.

Suddenly, he felt himself hauled up by arms that definitely did not belong to Bruce. He tried to turn around and see whoever was holding him but couldn’t get his neck to turn that far. And so, in an act of pure instinct, Tony began violently thrashing at whoever was behind him. He wasn’t sure if it was Hammer, or maybe Ivan who had him this time. Hell, it might’ve even been Killian at this point.

“Friend Stark! Do not worry! I am not here to cause thee harm!”

Tony stopped thrashing, and blinked slowly, almost comically.

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

Because behind him was not one of his tormentors. No, instead it was the (surprisingly) buff drama student, Thor Odinson.

“Thor?” Tony heard himself asking. 

“Yes! It is I! Thor, son of Odin!”

“Yeah, I got that part buddy. Would you mind maybe putting me down real quick?” Tony might’ve been exhausted, but he’d be damned if someone ever had to carry him.

God knew what Howard would say about it.

Oh shit. Howard.

Tony could hear the man’s voice in his head, a conversation they’d had last night.

“And I want you home as soon as school is over, boy! I know you’ve been avoiding work! Stark men are made of iron! We don’t run away from our problems; we face them head on!”

Shit.

Tony’s eyes widened and he checked his watch. 

6:50 PM.

Well. 

“Fuuuuck,” Tony groaned, knowing what this meant for him. He rubbed his hands across his face, trying to figure out how to make it home by 7 when he lived 20 minutes away. One of the joys of living in a mansion being that everything was fifteen minutes further due to the sheer expanse of the property.

“Tony? What’s wrong?” Bruce asked, voice laced with concern. Oh yeah. Bruce and Thor were both here. The blonde’s presence was strange, but Tony couldn’t worry about that right now. He had to get home, now.

“I have to go.”

“I mean, yeah, you just passed out?? Where else would you go??”

“I have to work.” Tony wanted to slap himself the moment he said it. Because now, no doubt, Bruce would ask questions about ‘what could possibly be so important’, and those were questions he just did not want to answer right now.

“Wait, Tony, no! You need rest, you can’t just-,” Bruce cut himself off when Tony turned on him, eyes cold and menacing. 

“You know what? It’s none of your business what I do. So, it would be greatly appreciated if you would kindly just fuck off.” Bruce looked like he’d been slapped. Tony felt bad, but he couldn’t show it. If Bruce found out his father was the reason he looked like shit right now, well… it wouldn’t end well. For either of them. 

“Anthony! Do not speak to friend Bruce that way! He is only trying to act with your best interests at heart!”

“Well, I don’t need him, or you, or anyone to take care of me!”

And with that, Tony stormed out of the lab, giving Bruce the finger when he heard the teen try to reason with him.

Tony wanted to cry.

He knew he had just ruined any chance he had previously had of being friends with Bruce. He had been the only person who would actually spend time with him, even if it wasn’t necessarily for his company. He was the only person who had even a chance of understanding what it was like to be like him. To be different.

And he’d just blown it all to hell.

Tony ran home. He didn’t care how much his legs burned, he just needed to do… something. Feel something. 

Even if it was pain.


	2. A Little Lost At Sea (I Keep Trying To Find Me)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day!! I figured since I had nothing else going on, I'd update.  
> I know, what a shock.  
> I think I figured out how much of an asshole I want Howard to be in this. You'll see what I mean. He is not nice.  
> Also, the chapter titles are coming from Imagine Dragons songs. I'll leave link to them in the notes at the bottom.  
> In this chapter, we're finally going to see Tony interact with some of the Avengers!  
> As always, thank you so much for reading!
> 
> TW: Implied and heavily referenced child abuse! Implied and heavily referenced alcoholism! Please head these warnings! There things are directly referenced. Please, do not read if this triggers you! If you feel like I need to edit, add, or change the tags, please let me know! Also, language! And, Steve is kind of a jerk in this chapter, but he gets better! Eventually.

Tony went to bed that night with a black eye, bruised stomach, and a bloody, hopefully-not-broken, nose.

It didn’t make it anywhere near his top five most painful nights.

Besides, Howard hadn’t even been drinking that much! And his mother had been home, so Howard had known that he couldn’t be too forceful. Well, compared to when she wasn’t there, that is. She had tucked Tony in, whispering sweet nothings into his ear and she coaxed him into an uneasy sleep. Tony would never give Maria the mother of the year award (she had, after all, married Howard Stark), but she was far from the worst. Because even if she did let Howard… do what he did, she also made sure he looked presentable enough to go to school after.

But that wasn’t completely fair to her.

If Maria left Howard, she would have nothing. Howard would be sure to have the best lawyers in the world make that a certainty. He would also probably turn the media against her, even if he didn’t have her natural charm. He was rich and powerful. He could do anything to her if she left. And even if she didn’t leave, even if she just told him to stop, Tony knew what would happen. When Howard… hurt him… he was usually stupid drunk and might not be able to differentiate between his failure of a son and his wife.

That’s what Tony told himself.

She was there to wake him up the next morning, eyes sorrowful. Tony didn’t like when his mother had sad eyes. It felt wrong. Maria Stark was a good woman, and just because she had married a dick didn’t mean she deserved to be sad all the time.

“Morning sweetheart. How are you feeling?”

Tony groaned. His head throbbed, and he knew that the moment he moved his stomach would ache.

“Like shit,” he responded dryly. She smiled sadly.

“I know, honey. I’m so sorry. I’ll talk to him about this, I can’t keep seeing you hurt-,”

Tony stopped her. “No, Mom. It only happens when he drinks, he doesn’t mean it, not really. He’ll just promise to not do it, but then he’ll open up a bottle of whiskey and the only evidence that night ever happened will be the bruises I have.”

Maria looked so sad. Tony hated it. Because he knew she was sad because of him, because, damn it, he was a genius, no matter what Howard said, and that much was true. Tony knew it was.

“Besides,” Tony hissed in pain as he got up. “One day, I’ll be old enough to get my own lawyers and get us as far away from this hellhole as possible. Once I graduate from MIT, I’ll be able to handle it. We just have to wait until then. Okay?”

Maria cupped her son’s hand in her face. “Okay,” she said softly, pressing a delicate kiss to his forehead before leaving him alone to get dressed.

Tony sighed. He just had to hold on a little bit longer. Once he went to MIT, he would hardly see his father at all. He just hoped Howard didn’t start hurting Maria in his absence. Putting a hand to his face, Tony considered that. He’d thought about it before. He knew it was a possibility. But Maria was smart. Smarter than most people gave her credit for. If Howard tried hitting her while Tony was gone, he was sure she would call Jarvis to drive her to her own house, not one of Howard’s.

With that, Tony got up, throwing on some sweatpants and an oversized MIT hoodie he’d stolen from Rhodey. God, Rhodey. Tony would kill to see his best friend right about now. They had been in almost all their classes together last year, until Rhodey had graduated, heading off to MIT to become a literal rocket scientist, even though he was going into the Air Force. They had become quick best friends, especially after a ‘incident’ in the lab had landed them both in detention for two weeks. 

It was then that Rhodey had noticed the bruises.

Tony had tried to hide them. He’d gotten pretty good at it, but after Howard had gotten a call from the school (despite Jarvis and Maria’s attempts to hide it) saying that Tony had detention, it had been impossible. Tony hadn’t told him everything. Nobody needed to bear that weight but him. But Rhodey knew part of it, and, bless him, understood the impossible situation.

But Tony had school, so he pushed thoughts of his best (and only) friend away as he got ready.

Jarvis drove him to school like usual, after putting makeup on Tony’s face to cover up the bruises. Luckily, his nose wasn’t broken, so he didn’t have to worry about that. He just had to make sure he kept the makeup on, and he’d be fine. Besides, even if somebody did notice, he could just claim that he’d gotten into a fight. It was a reasonable enough excuse. Tony certainly had the temper for it to be believable, and Hammer was always itching for a way to bring him down. And if that included lying about kicking his ass and giving him a black eye, well, Tony wasn’t about to stop him.

Tony went to first period, which passed by without incident. The rest of his day proceeded in a similar fashion.

Until fifth period, that is.

That was Tony’s first class with Bruce. And Thor. And after yesterday’s events, he really did not want to deal with them right now. Especially after Howard’s scornful comments.

“Stark! Wait up!”

Tony cringed at the sound of Bruce’s voice. Bruce called him Tony when they talked, which wasn’t often. People only ever called Tony ‘Stark’ when they were either disappointed in him or wanted something from him. Which meant that only a select few actually called him Tony. Having to remove Bruce from his mental list of friendlies hurt more than he’d care to admit.

Tony whirled around, a scowl already in place on his face.

“What?” he asked, voice dripping with a practiced annoyance.

Bruce took one look at him and stepped back, his eyes wide.

“Woah, Tony, what happened?”

Tony tried not to panic. He knew that the makeup wasn’t a complete fix, but he also had thought it would at least last him throughout the school day

“Nothing. What you do want?” To everyone else, his tone would’ve sounded the same, but Tony could hear the nervous edge creeping into the frustration. I have to try harder. I cannot let anyone see my weakness. Stark men are made of iron.

“But- your nose? And your eye? Did you get into a fight?” Banner seemed dead set on continuing this line of questioning, instead of whatever he had wanted to talk about in the first place.

“What do you think? You’re supposed to be a genius, right? Figure it out,” Tony turned to leave, wanting to get to his class without having to lie about getting beat up. But Bruce stopped him again, this time putting a hand on his shoulder. 

Tony flinched.

He realized his mistake as soon as it happened, and quickly tried to play it off like he’d been shivering. While he was wearing a long-sleeve hoodie and sweatpants.

Bruce, observant devil he was, nearly jumped himself at Tony’s reflex. Tony could see the concern and questions in the teen’s eyes, and he was not in the mood to explain that, oh yeah, my father, CEO of Stark fucking Industries, is an alcoholic, and sometimes can’t tell the difference between me and the wall.

Yeah. Not something Tony was in the mood to deal with, now, or ever.

“Let me go, Banner. I have class.” Tony knew it was a lame excuse; he had skipped class before for no reason other than he was bored. He didn’t actually care. All he really had to do was show up when there was a quiz or a test, and he’d be fine. He was Tony goddamn Stark. He could do whatever the hell he wanted. Everyone knew that.

“You and I both know you don’t care about going to class. What happened?”

No, Tony thought resolutely. He is trying to get me to talk about feelings, and just, ew. No.

“Hammer got sick of my bullshit, that’s it. Found me in the parking lot before school. Not a big deal. Now, for fuck’s sake, let me go.”

Tony was rather proud of how convincing he sounded. It was, after all, a plausible explanation. Certainly, more likely than the truth. Not that he was going to tell Bruce the truth, or any version of it. Not that that was anything new. Being the son of Howard Stark, he’d grown up in the spotlight. This also meant that he was able to construct a good lie on the spot, no matter the situation. He practically had it down to a science (he actually did. After a few weeks of research, he had managed to eliminate the easiest ways to tell he was lying).

Bruce quirked an eye at him. 

“This morning, huh?”

Tony nodded, turning to leave, desperate to get away.

“Yep.”

“That’s funny, I thought that Justin was sick. He wasn’t in my first period, or my third. His mom even called in, talked to Rambeau and everything.”

Tony gulped. “Yeah, um, he, uh, threw up, um, r-right after. Yeah, saw him, uh, get picked up? By his mom?” Tony was grasping at straws at this point. Fuck you, Justin. The one day the entire year I don’t want you to be sick, I swear. He straightened himself up, trying to look surer of his answer than he felt.

“Really?” Bruce asked, skepticism dripping from his voice like syrup.

“Really. Saw it with my own two eyes. Now, do me a favor, and let me go to class?”

Tony didn’t actually wait for an answer. He yanked himself from Bruce’s grip and marched into his fifth period’s room. 

Bruce kept giving him skeptical looks throughout class, and it was all Tony could do to ignore him. 

When the bell finally rang, Tony pretended to rush off to the lab. As expected, Bruce followed him, but didn’t quite keep up. As they rounded a corner, Tony quickly ran and hid behind one of the bathroom stalls, hoping Bruce hadn’t seen him. When Bruce continued walking towards the lab, Tony let out a silent sigh of relief.

Once he was sure Banner was gone, Tony headed to the lunchroom. He knew Bruce would never think to look for him there. He never ate in the cafeteria, it was too loud, too bright, and filled with people. People who would notice if Tony Stark ate by himself every day.

But Tony sucked it up, and found an empty table situated on the left side of the room near the door. He got out his notebook and began fixing a few sketches for his father’s latest project. It was called Project Jericho and was supposed to be some sort of high-tech missile. Not exactly what Tony wanted to design, but there’d be hell to pay if he didn’t.

He had been sitting there, quietly working, minding his own business, when someone walked up to the table and stood next to him.

Refusing to look up, Tony snuck a quick glance of the person’s shoes. Noting the uncommon brand name and style, Tony immediately deduced who it was. 

“What do you want, Goldilocks?” Tony snarked without looking up. He needed to appear in control. He couldn’t let anything other than confidence and indifference show.

“I have come to discuss your behavior yesterday at friend Bruce’s lab.”

“Oh, that was nothing. Haven’t you heard? I’m an obnoxious asshole. It’s kind of my thing.”

“But why behave like that towards Bruce? He’s your friend, is he not?”

“No. He’s not.”

“Well... um,” Thor was cut off by the appearance of another.

This time, Tony looked up.

Because it was Steve fucking Rogers.

Son of a-

Tony was done. Done. Fine, he could handle Banner. And Thor. But Rogers? No, that was asking too much. Tony was not in the mood to make the Avengers hate him.

Ah, the Avengers. Heroes to underdogs everywhere. Led by Rogers, the group of five students had made it their mission to ‘avenge’ those that were victims of bullying and the like.

They had first formed during Tony’s freshman year. Rogers, who had also been a freshman at the time, was new to the school, and had been incredibly small at the time. He used to get into more fights than Tony did, and that was saying something. Natasha Romanoff had taken him under her wing, protecting him from the assholes that roamed Shield Academy.

Now, Romanoff was a story by herself. She, too, had been new to school, transferring from an all-girls school. She had been on the boxing team, winning every competition she entered. She knew karate, jujitsu, judo, aikido, tai chi, and tae kwon do. In fact, she had been so good, that her competitors had taken to calling her the Black Widow. Needless to say, she was one of the scariest people in school. She had been friends with Clint Barton, the school’s archer, before moving, so she had hung out with him at first.

Rumor had it that she had broken the nose of someone she had seen trying to beat up Rogers. After that, Rogers, Barton, and Romanoff had all become an unstoppable force. Especially since during the summer before sophomore year, Rogers had spent all of his time working out, learning how to fight from Romanoff and Barton.

The next to join their little band of heroes had been Thor. They had seen him defending some kid named Ian Boothby and had invited Thor to sit with them at lunch. Thor had, in turn, invited Bruce Banner, his lab partner in science, to sit with them. The rest was history.

“Stark, is there a problem here?” Rogers’ stern voice made Tony want to punch something. This was not how his day was supposed to go.

“No.” Tony didn’t say anything else. He didn’t need to. Never explain yourself. It makes you seem weak to your enemies and your friends shouldn’t need you to.

“Thor?” Tony groaned internally. Rogers really wanted to make this difficult, didn’t he?

“Well, it is nothing really. Anthony was simply being slightly rude yesterday to friend Bruce. I was merely hoping to ascertain as to why.”

“Really, Stark? Didn’t your parents teach you any manners? What’d he do, Thor?”

Before the blonde could answer, Tony spoke up. “I told him to leave me alone and fuck off. Just like what I’m about to tell you. Hey, Rogers! Leave me alone, and fuck off,” he snapped, voice laced with venom.

“That was entirely uncalled for.”

“Was it really? What are you going to do, go off to your little gang of ‘Avengers’ and cry about it? Maybe help some old ladies cross the street to make yourself feel better?”

Rogers rolled his eyes, but Tony wasn’t done.

“Oh, I know! Why don’t you go put on some Spandex? That way, you can be superheroes!” Tony was pretty sure he had never been more sarcastic and condescending in his life. It was quite a performance. Most of the room had gone silent as they watched the altercation.

“You know what Stark? I’ve always heard that you were an arrogant brat who thinks he’s so smart because his daddy has money. But I could never bring myself to believe it. I know your father is a good man, he doesn’t deserve such an awful kid. I bet you’re such a disappointment to him.”

That… hit a little too close to home. Not that Tony could show it.

“Oh, I get it. Because after seeing him for only a few weeks, you could clearly tell that Howard was such an honorable man, huh? Well, I’ve got news for you! The rotten apple doesn’t fall far from the poisoned tree!”

This made Steve genuinely angry. Tony could see the shift in his body language, the fire in his eyes.

“Do not try and bring Howard down to your level. We all know you'll never compare to him, so stop wasting your time, and quit trying.” At this point, Steve looked a few seconds away from punching him.

“Steve, don’t do it. He’s not worth it,” Tony could hear Romanoff say, having seen the whole thing.

That… stung. 

Steve huffed angrily. “You’re right. He’s not worth it.”

And with that, the Avengers walked away, leaving Tony feeling significantly worse than he had in a while.

He didn’t actually care what they thought of him. He tried to act like a pompous ass, so he was fine that they treated him like one.

What had hurt was them not even thinking him worth a punch.

His Aunt Peggy had helped Howard at the camp as a volunteer. She had spoken highly of Rogers.

“If Steve Rogers doesn’t think you’re good, then you must have really messed up.”

Tony was pretty sure she’d be very disappointed in him if she saw him today.

At the end of the day, Tony walked over to the coffee shop, taking refuge in a seat by the window. It was practically reserved for him, as it was more secluded than the others, and most people went there to hang out anyway.

He spent the rest of his day working on the Jericho Project.

And if he let his guard down a little bit, his tiredness and guilt showing itself on his face, well… nobody was going to say anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh! Thank you so much for reading! After all the hits and kudos I got on the first chapter, I couldn't believe it! I was going to write something else (I have like 10 WIPs, whoops. All Tony angst, of course) but you guys inspired me to write this! I have no idea what the updating schedule is going to look like, but I will try and update as much as possible!  
> Please leave a comment or kudos if you liked it! Those things fuel my writing!
> 
> Also, here are the links to the songs mentioned (in the work title and chapters)
> 
> "Trouble" by Imagine Dragons  
> https://youtu.be/k4l5SLs5u8A
> 
> "Demons" by Imagine Dragons  
> https://youtu.be/mWRsgZuwf_8


	3. Smoke and Mirrors (I Wanna Believe)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, before we begin, I have three things:
> 
> 1\. I may or may not have finished this like a week ago, but I wanted to try and stick to maybe updating somewhat consistently? So now I also have part of the next chapter written, so there shouldn't be a month long break or anything. This time two weeks from now, a new chapter will (hopefully) be out!
> 
> 2\. This chapter is written entirely from Clint's point of view. I have decided to include some things from the comic version of his character, as I think it's more in depth and interesting. I haven't actually read the comics (but the fandom app is amazing so I don't need to), so please correct me if you feel there are any glaring issues with his character!
> 
> 3\. I also published this story on Wattpad, on the account -You-Know-Who-I-Am- if you prefer Wattpad to AO3.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Clint Barton had felt like something was going to go wrong all day.

The week had been fairly uneventful, with no fights breaking out, or anything else the Avengers would need to take care of. It was nice and calm.

Suspiciously nice and calm.

Clint had woken up that morning with an inexplicable feeling of dread pooling in his stomach. He knew that the week’s tranquility wasn’t going to last forever, but it had been a nice reprieve from their normal lives.

One thing about Clint was that he had incredible eyesight.

He was partially deaf, and what was that thing people said? When one sense is gone, the others are stronger?

Well, that was certainly true in his case. You couldn’t be a good archer without a good eye, after all.

Having good eyesight meant that he… noticed things.

Clint saw everything.

That note someone passed during history yesterday? He saw it and was able to read part of it (he disagreed that Mr. Coulson was a dick. He actually really liked the man). That calculus test someone cheated on? He saw it and was planning on thanking them for the answer to #25 later. He could tell when people were lying, would notice the faintest twitch of an eye, or barely shaking hands.

He saw everything.

This had proven to be particularly useful when it came to being an Avenger. He could see the subtle nods of bullies when they planned on beating up some freshman on their way to P.E. He saw the little nervous glances from said freshman when they walked down the halls, as if they were expecting to be attacked.

And he understood that. 

It was why he had become an Avenger. So, he didn’t have to see as many nervous glances in the hall on his way to English, so he could walk to class without thinking, ‘Are they okay?’ And you know what? He was pretty proud of himself. He, along with the rest of the Avengers, had done a pretty good job at helping the little guy, of giving the underdog a fighting chance.

Life was good. He had great friends (Nat, Steve, Thor, and Bruce), a great girlfriend (Laura), and his father was long gone.

He had everything figured out.

Until Tony Stark, that is.

At first, he had thought he had the kid figured out.

The kid was born into pure wealth, the son of one of the most famous and powerful men on the planet. Destined for greatness, he had grown up in the spotlight. Now, Barton was thorough, and if there were any POI (People of interest) at his school, he wanted to know them inside and out. And Stark was about as interesting a person as you could get.

Born Anthony Edward Stark to Maria and Howard Stark on May 29th, there was almost nothing you couldn’t find about the kid. There were a plethora of articles about him, some praising his genius (he was a senior in high school at age 14), others disparaging his attitude (he was notorious for, as he had once said in front of the media, ‘not giving a fuck’).

But for the life of him, Barton couldn’t figure that kid out.

It frustrated him to no end, to have the knowledge that there was someone, in his own high school, that he didn’t get. Much less someone like Stark, whose entire life was practically a reality TV show. Clint was pretty sure that pictures of him sleeping in his own home were on the internet. 

So how come he couldn’t figure the kid out?

Clint had decided, this year, that he was going to understand Tony Stark. It was his mission. He hadn’t told anyone about it, save for Natasha, as she was the only other person who might be able to get a read on the kid. But Natasha had simply looked at him like he’d grown another head before telling him that his mission was doomed to failure. And while that wasn’t exactly encouraging, it made Clint feel a little bit better, because if Natasha hadn’t figured him out, this was going to be harder than he expected. Well, at least he knew he wasn’t missing something obvious.

See, here’s the thing about Stark. He always walked with an easy sort of indifference about him, a devil-may-care attitude. Clint knew that Stark was supposed to be one of the most famous people on the planet. And he was, there was no doubt about that.

But Clint could swear that he had never actually seen the kid hang out with anyone.

And it wasn’t for a lack of looking, either. He had trailed the kid for the day, been his shadow, no less than twelve times this year. But he had never seen the kid talk to anyone, save for mouthing off to teachers and delivering snarky one-liners to anyone who bothered him.

It confused Clint to no end.

He had asked Natasha about it, to see what she had to say. She had coolly replied, “Haven’t you noticed anything else? It’s not just that he doesn’t talk to people, but he doesn’t try to either. He’s always got his nose in that notebook, sketching out designs and working on various engineering projects. Now, while that might mean nothing, it could be his way of getting some alone time?”

Clint had shaken his head. “I don’t think so. I researched Howard Stark, and let me tell you, there’s no way he’s home all the time. And his house has to be huge! He could probably stay on one side of the house and not see another person for a month!”

Natasha bit her lip, considering. “Do you think he spends all that time alone voluntarily? Or do you think he actually doesn’t have friends?”

Clint had to stifle a laugh. “Wow, I can’t believe we’re saying this. Tony Stark? Not having friends? Yeah, those two phrases don’t belong in the same book together.”

“The only way for us to know is for him to put that damn notebook down and walk like a normal person, without giving off, ‘I’m smarter than you so fuck off’ vibes.”

“Oh my god you’re serious.”

Natasha shrugged. “Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.”

“Do not quote Sherlock Holmes at me, please. I just had English, and I really don’t feel like trying to decipher Shakespeare right now.”

Natasha had smirked before going back to her lunch, the rest of the day passing in an easy manner.

It had been a week since that conversation. And Clint had trailed the kid the entire day (they had a lot of classes together, and he was always able to make it to his class before the teacher called roll, or even noticed he was gone) everyday he could.

And he had gotten nowhere.

It had put him in a sour mood, and Natasha had noticed.

“So, no luck on the Stark case?”

He stared down at his food and mumbled incoherently under his breath. Even though he wasn’t looking at her, he could still see her smirk out of the corner of his eye. He also saw Thor get up. Before he could ask what he was doing, he was gone, heading off to a table at the corner of the lunchroom.

And Clint saw, of all people, Tony ‘I never eat anywhere but the lab’ Stark sitting down, looking over his notebook absently eating as he made notes.

‘Well I’ll be damned,’ he thought. ‘After shadowing him all week, the one day I don’t follow him to lunch, he decides to break his religious pattern and deign to eat with us mere mortals. Figures.’

Thor said something to Tony, and Clint saw the kid’s grip on his pencil tighten just a hair as he responded. This was going to be interesting.

Thor was usually a big teddy bear. A sweet guy, really. A bit dramatic, but hey, that’s the fun part, right? But if Thor got pissed off, well… there was a reason why he’d been cast as the god of thunder in the school play.

And Tony Stark was well-known to be a pompous ass. And despite Clint’s suspicions that there was more to him than that, he certainly acted like one. And if Tony pissed off Thor, well… Clint had the hospital on speed dial for a reason.

Eventually, Steve got up to go supervise the encounter, a move Clint would generally call smart, but for some reason, he felt like something bad was going to happen. This was wrong, something here was… off.

Natasha got up to follow Rogers, Clint trailing not far behind.

“-parents teach you any manners? What’d he do, Thor?” he heard Steve finish.

No one else would’ve seen it, but Clint could’ve sworn he saw Stark’s eye twitch, something extremely out of character for the normally collected teen.

Thor looked like he was about to respond to Steve, and Clint wished he had. Unfortunately, Tony beat him to it. 

“I told him to leave me alone and fuck off. Just like what I’m about to tell you. Hey, Rogers! Leave me alone, and fuck of.”

Oh shit. Oh shit. This was not going to end well. Clint glanced at Steve, praying he would remember Natasha’s first lesson of martial arts, ‘never go around looking for a fight, only fight as a last resort.’ Yeah, Natasha might need to remind him about that later today.

“That was entirely uncalled for.”

And that was entirely less violent than I thought it would be.

“Was it really? What are you going to do, go off to your little gang of ‘Avengers’ and cry about it? Maybe help some old ladies cross the street to make yourself feel better?”

‘God damnit, Stark. You were almost out of the woods. All you had to do was try and be civil.’ Clint thought, then caught himself. ‘Why am I rooting for him?’ Clint had a feeling that he was missing something, and that same feeling was telling him, ‘This isn’t all there is. There’s more to this than what you think.’ Since most of Clint’s feelings were right, he decided not to write Stark off as an ass just yet.

“Oh, I know! Why don’t you go put on some Spandex? That way, you can be superheroes!”

Clint wanted to grab the kid by the collar and yell right into his face, “Shut up! You are making this so much harder than it needs to be!”

Alas, he didn’t.

“You know what Stark? I’ve always heard that you were an arrogant brat who thinks he’s so smart because his daddy has money. But I could never bring myself to believe it. I know your father is a good man, he doesn’t deserve such an awful kid. I bet you’re such a disappointment to him.”

Damn. Clint knew Steve was pissed, but that was a low blow for anyone. And then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something, because that was his job god damnit, he noticed shit! When Steve started talking about the senior Stark, Tony flinched. Honest to god, flinched. No one else could have seen it, and the kid himself might not have noticed, but Clint did. He also saw the sudden flash of… something bad… Clint wasn’t sure if it was fear, anger, hurt, or a combination of all three. But whatever it was, Clint was definitely not comfortable seeing on Tony Stark’s face.

Yeah, that was not okay.

“Oh, I get it. Because after seeing him for only a few weeks, you could clearly tell that Howard was such an honorable man, huh? Well, I’ve got news for you! The rotten apple doesn’t fall far from the poisoned tree!”

That was verging dangerously close to a theory that Clint really did not want to even consider.

‘Okay, so maybe Howard Stark just… isn’t around much? Yeah, that’s all. We’re all good here. No reason to freak out.’ Clint’s father was gone from his life. Never to be seen again, or thought about again, or mentioned again. That chapter of his life was over. End of story.

“Do not try and bring Howard down to your level. We all know you'll never compare to him, so stop wasting your time, and quit trying.”

Clint couldn’t just stand by anymore. He knew the natural feeling of inferiority that Tony probably felt. It was incredibly common for kids like him to have self esteem issues, and having famous parents is a big part of that. Even if the kid’s persona appeared to be overly confident, it was still very easy for kids to slip into that kind of thinking. Saying stuff like that was off limits in Clint’s book. It didn’t matter who said it, who it was said to, or the situation. That was a no.

Luckily for him Natasha had a faster reaction time, sending him a look before placing a soothing hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Steve, don’t do it. He’s not worth it.” Clint cringed internally at the wording. He knew she was talking about coming to Howard’s defense, but it was clear that Tony didn’t see that. Steve didn’t appear to either, as he readily agreed, saying, “You’re right. He’s not worth it.”

Clint knew that Howard and Steve had bonded over their little summer camp, and Steve saw the man as the father he never had, even if he’d only known him for a few weeks. Clint knew he would never give up on defending the man that easily. 

And Tony. The kid. God, Clint wished he knew how to describe the state he appeared to be in. To a normal person, he would’ve looked fine. Pissed, maybe, but fine. But to Clint’s trained eye, he saw the weariness in his eyes, the way his shoulders weren’t held up in perfect posture, the way his mouth wasn’t flashing them a trademark smirk. By not actively putting up a façade, Clint knew that Stark was going to be an even more difficult case than he’d originally anticipated.

But he was Clint Barton. He was always ready for a good challenge. 

◂▫▫◌▫▫▸

Turns out, Clint didn’t need to wait to long to get his next break in the Stark case.

It had been an… eventful day, to say the very least, and everyone was in varying states of annoyance, anger, and aggravation. Steve had taken to scowling during their last few periods of the day, with Thor seeming rather put off. Natasha was, as always, impossible to read. Bruce had been in the lab when it had all happened, which was rather unusual for the guy. He always kept a balance between his work and his social life, making time for his friends whenever he could. 

When Clint had asked where he’d been, Bruce had told him he was looking for Stark. Shocked, Banner had explained the incident before fifth period, and how Stark had visibly flinched when Bruce touched him. Clint noted that if Bruce had noticed it, then it really must’ve been obvious. 

Clint was really starting to wonder just who Tony Stark really was.

As he had said, today had been a long day. Clint decided to treat himself to a cup of coffee. Everyone who knew him knew he was a teenage caffeine addict. He had two cups of the stuff before he even got to school and needed at least one more to sip on throughout the day.

So, him grabbing a little pick-me-up after school was truly nothing out of the ordinary.

Normally, he would just head to the Starbucks near his house. Convenience, after all, was key. And while he would always enjoy their coffee, he knew it wasn’t as good as their local coffee shop, The Grounds. Unfortunately, The Grounds was in the opposite direction of his house, which made it unrealistic to hang out for hours after school.

But today, he was going to go, because they had the best coffee within the state, as far as he was concerned.

When he stepped through the door, he was immediately greeted with the warm, comforting smell of coffee beans and espresso. The shop had a lovely, homey ambience. Instead of the uncomfortable chairs and stools he was used to at Starbucks, couches and fluffy chairs were littered all over the place, with a few bean bag chairs scatted about. 

Clint was in love.

He went up to the counter and ordered his go-to (a black americano), and picked out a seat near the fireplace, but still secluded. He had strategically placed himself near the counter, to make ordering another coffee easier.

He put down his backpack before settling in, texting his mother that he would be home later than usual, before pulling out his AP Calc homework, getting ready for a long study session.

That was his plan. It really was! 

Until Tony Stark walked through the door, that was.

Clint immediately stopped paying attention to the problem he was working on in favor of analyzing the young genius. 

Stark ordered a black coffee with an extra shot of espresso before taking refuge in a corner seat by the window. Clint somehow wasn’t surprised. It was a strategic spot, it had a good view of the entire shop, so nothing could sneak up on you, and it was still somewhat set apart from the rest of the area. And the black coffee was simply cliché, the young genius that survived on caffeine a trope Clint was achingly familiar with. (Bruce used to be like that before he met Thor. Always completely absorbed in his work, a slightly manic gleam always in his eye. Ever since he and Thor had started hanging out, though, he had since given up coffee completely, switching to tea instead. Clint wondered when those two would finally stop dancing around each other and go out already.)

As the kid sat down to work, Clint noticed the way he let his posture slip. Except, unlike in the cafeteria, this wasn’t an accident that Stark immediately sought to fix. He let his shoulders slump. He let his flashy smile drop, let the spark fizzle out of his eyes. Clint had never seen the kid without his usual aura of excitement, of pure energy that needed to be redirected into something. He had suspected that the kid had ADHD, as Stark was always moving, always doing something. 

It wasn’t necessarily fidgeting; he was just always working. Always sketching out designs or working out equations that were leagues above anything Clint could understand.

So, to see him be so calm, so still, somehow felt wrong. Clint almost felt like he was intruding, watching the way the kid let himself put his guard down. 

Clint barely even noticed when his coffee was set down on his table.

When Stark’s coffee came, the teen seemed to snap out of whatever daze he’d been in, before blinking in a confused manner, almost as if he were unsure as to how he’d gotten there.

Then he buckled down and got to work.

Clint observed the way his pencil scribbled furiously across the page, almost desperately. Once he realized that the kid was probably going to be working for a while, Clint decided he might as well follow suit. 

By the time Clint had finished his Cal, Chemistry, and English homework, he was exhausted, ready to turn in and call it a night. He looked back up towards Stark, only to find the kid still writing, just as energetically as he had when he’d started. But this time, Clint noted the stacks of papers and textbooks set off to the side. Stark must have finished his homework some time ago, as he was now making notes in his notebook.

Clint checked his watch, and realized it was already 8:47, which was pretty late for him to still be out doing homework. He decided that it was probably time for him to head home, no matter if Stark was still there or not. The coffee shop was mostly emptied out, with only a few other customers still present.

He packed his stuff up, hoping the kid didn’t notice him. Stark didn’t even seem to register that anyone was there at all. 

Before he left, he walked up to the counter.

“Hey, I’m not sure if you’re allowed to answer this, but how long does he usually stay here?” he asked the barista, nodding his head in Stark’s direction. 

The woman shrugged. “Depends. Sometimes he doesn’t come at all, but he leaves around 6:30 on Mondays through Wednesdays. The rest of the week, it usually ranges from 12 AM to 4 AM. I think it’s based on when his father has meetings, he’s told me a few times to remind him what day it is.”

Clint nodded, thanking the woman before leaving.

He walked out into the night, relishing in the way the frosty air bit at his skin. He got out his earbuds, listening to music as he walked on. The voice of Frank Sinatra flowed into his ears, the beginning of “The Best Is Yet to Come” playing.

Clint couldn’t help but wonder how long Tony would be working tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is honestly way longer than I thought it would be. I've never really written Clint before, but I actually really enjoyed it. Please let me know what you think, any and all feedback is entirely welcome! Remember to leave a comment or kudos if you think this deserves it! Tysm!!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please be sure to leave a comment or give this story a kudos! I really appreciate it!! <3


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